


Merry Christmas, Sammy

by S_G_M



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Christmas, Dog - Freeform, Family, Fluff, Gen, Holidays, Sweet
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-21
Updated: 2014-12-21
Packaged: 2018-03-02 14:33:04
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,553
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2815562
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/S_G_M/pseuds/S_G_M
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Despite Dean's struggle with his inner demons, he wants nothing more than for Sam to have the first decent Christmas of his life.  Between taking care of a sick Sam, picking up all of the holiday items, decorating the bunker, and baking, Dean is a very busy man!  It all proves worthwhile once he sees that massive grin on his younger brother's face.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Merry Christmas, Sammy

It had been months since Dean had been turned human once more.

What Sam didn’t realise was how much residual whatever was left in his brother’s system; he had his suspicions, but Dean didn’t let on as to just how much was still very wrong with him.

Even Christmas time, Dean’s favourite point in the year (though he would never admit to it), didn’t seem to lift the darkness much at all, if any.

No, that evil had seeped so completely into every nook and cranny, drenching even his soul in wickedness, that it was doubtful whether he would ever be truly shot of it.

Dean felt it in every beat of his heart, in each breath that he took.

He had tried to be his old self for Sammy’s sake, but it was exhausting and he could only do it for so long before he began slipping up.

Whenever he saw that look on his brother’s face, he knew that Sam knew that he wasn’t the same.

Still, they hadn’t really talked about it.

Every time Sam had tried to broach the topic, Dean would expertly change the topic and refuse to acknowledge his brother’s words.

 

With Sam under the weather, suffering from a bad cold that he’d caught after falling into Lake Michigan chasing after a werewolf, was resting in bed.

He’d just wanted to be left alone, though Dean had ignored this somewhat and had brought him meals and plenty of fluids.

After all, Sam really was sick; he was weak and couldn’t even stand without weaving on the spot a bit.

 

 

Dean liked Christmas well enough, heck, he had always looked forward to it, even if they’d had nothing.

There was just something special about December 25th that had always struck a chord in him, even if the holidays did bring his spirits down in a way.

Well, at least there _used_ to be something good about Christmas time for him, before he had changed…

But, whatever crap he was going through, he was going to make sure that Sammy got the Christmas he’d always wanted.

They’d never done much of anything for Christmas, often forgoing the decorations and holiday shopping, opting out of eggnog and apple cider, all of that stuff.

This year, though…  This year was going to be different.

 

Dean put on his shoes and his long sleeved plaid shirt over his grey tee, and slipped his leather jacket over that.

Leaving Sam a note on the fridge explaining his absence, he left the bunker.

He knew that if Sam needed him, that he’d call.

 

Dean had driven into town, thinking over all that he had planned on doing.

Parking across the street from the only mall in town, he’d gone and picked out a few gifts for Sam, and had bought some shortbread, a box of chocolates, some beer, lights and ornaments for the tree, and candy canes, along with other holiday bits and bobs.

As he drove Baby down the main road, the snow began falling thickly, frosty flakes drifting languidly down from the heavens in a beautiful display.

After a short while, he parked the Impala just outside a lot where a scrawny blonde woman and a young, cheerful transgendered man were selling pine trees.

Dean had spotted the perfect tree within moments of walking around the place, deeply inhaling the heady scent of the freshly cut trees.

He began heading over to pay for it, when someone beat him to it.

“Hey, come on, man, I was here first!”  Dean complained unhappily, but the balding suit merely glared at him and quickly paid for the tree.

“Dick.”  Dean grumbled, as he turned away to find another tree.

“Pardon me?”  The man asked, his voice rising with his indignance as his face reddened.

“You heard me.”  Dean replied in his deep voice, looking back at the man with a raised brow.

He could feel _It_ welling up in him; it would have felt wonderful to, at the very least, hand this jerk his ass.

But, before the now livid man could say or do anything that would merit Dean’s wrathful actions, the younger employee quickly stepped in to try and calm the agitated customer.

 

It had taken Dean more time than he would have liked, but he did find another decent tree.

Not quite as nice as that first beauty, but still a pretty great one.

He paid for it, and the blonde had helped him carefully strap it to Baby, a protective tarp between the car and the tree.

 

Dean wasn’t too keen on having anything strapped onto his precious car, but it wasn’t as though he could have had it delivered, and come hell or high water, Sam was getting a good Christmas for once.

 

There had been just one more stop to make before heading back home to the bunker; the local animal shelter.

One of the few things Sam had actually wanted, something that he’d wanted ever since he’d been a kid but had been denied, was a dog.

Now, Dean realised that with their lifestyle, that Sam being a dog owner could prove challenging.

After all, there were risks that the dog might be put at that might be extremely dangerous, considering that it wouldn’t be able to just be left at the bunker when they went on hunting trips.

But, for once, Sam was going to get what he’d wanted.

 

As Dean looked over the dogs at the pound, most of them seemed to be sorry little bags of bones that were too dejected to have any sort of spark.

It was pretty depressing, actually.

There was one animal in particular that caught his eye; a mega mutt that sat peering up at him with intelligent russet eyes.

Dean crouched down, and the dog wagged its tail slowly, waiting for Dean to make the next move.

“Hey, buddy…”  Dean said quietly, sticking a couple of fingers through the wire fencing.

The mutt licked his fingers gently, almost pleadingly.

That dog wanted to be anywhere but where it was, and Dean could understand.

He knew just what it was like to be caged up.

Dean cleared his throat, and went over to the attendant, asking to see the dog.

“His name’s Briscoe.”  The brunette told him with a smile, unlocking the door and clipping a leach onto the dog’s collar.  “He’s a year and a half; vaccinations are up to date, though he isn’t neutered.  That would be extra, of course, and could be scheduled as soon as tomorrow.”

Briscoe walked over to Dean and sat directly at his feet, as though waiting for some kind of command.

“He’s very well trained.  He’s the best trained dog we’ve ever had in here, to be honest with you.”  The woman continued.  “He was surrendered when his owner joined the army a couple of weeks ago.  The poor young man was heartbroken to leave Briscoe here…”

Dean crouched down again, petting the dog’s head.

“Unfortunately, due to the fact that he’s such a large dog, not too many people are interested in him…  Everyone seems to want little ones these days.”  The attendant said a little sadly, shaking her head.  “I prefer the big guys, myself.  But, to each their own, I always say.”

Dean stood up. 

“I’ll take him.”  He decided, not sure exactly what had swayed him, but feeling that it was the right call.

The woman blinked in mild surprise.

“Great!”  She said happily, grinning widely.  “Just come with me and we’ll fill out the paperwork.”

She led Briscoe into the main area, getting some papers and setting them on the front desk.

 

 

Meanwhile, Sam lay in bed, feeling completely dreadful.

He had a fever, was sweaty and uncomfortable, and had awful chills.

He rarely got ill, but whenever he did, it was usually pretty bad.

He coughed painfully, before letting out a soft groan.

He could handle getting his ass kicked, could handle getting cut, bruised and battered, but a simple cold really took it out of him.

He blew his chapped nose for what seemed to be the hundredth time that afternoon, and rolled over on his side to try and get some sleep.

 

It wasn’t too much later on that Dean arrived, bringing in all of the shopping, before the dog.

He led Briscoe into the kitchen, where he poured him a bowl of kibble from the bag Dean had bought from the shelter.

“There ya go.”  Dean told him, setting the bowl down on the floor.

Briscoe stuck his nose right in and began to chow down happily.

“Hungry, huh?”  Dean remarked, rummaging in a drawer and pulling out a black permanent marker.

He took off Briscoe’s collar, and began putting protective symbols all along it.

Afterward, he clipped the collar back around the animal’s neck.

Briscoe looked up at him, licking his nose.

“What?”  Dean asked, frowning slightly.

Briscoe panted, looking very happy.

Dean rubbed the dog’s left ear, before going out to get the tree.

 

 

It took more time than Dean had expected, but he had managed to get the tree up and half decorated, the lights up along the walls, holiday knick knacks placed strategically throughout the main areas of the bunker, and wrap all of Sam’s presents.

As he finished messily wrapping the last gift, he noticed the time on the clock.

Putting the finishing touches on the gift wrap, Dean set to making Sam something to eat.

There wasn’t especially much in the cupboards; he’d meant to pick up some groceries, but he’d ended up forgetting about that with everything else.

He shifted things around in the fridge, pulling out some hamburger and cheese.

Dean knew there was the rest of the stuff for lasagne in the cupboards, so he made a pan of it.

Dean could really cook well, when he set his mind to it.

Of course, this time was no exception, and as he pulled the golden-topped lasagne out of the oven, Briscoe walked in.

His nails clicking on the floor, the dog came to a stop right beside Dean at the stove.

Dean regarded him for a moment, before feeding Briscoe a tidbit of the extra meat from the bowl on the counter.

Briscoe gently took it, practically inhaling it, before begging for another piece.

Dean chuckled, cut the meal into pieces, and brought a plate in to his younger brother.

 

 

“Hey, Sammy.”  Dean called softly, setting the plate on the bedside table.

Sam looked slightly less pale than he had earlier.

“Got your supper.”  He said, and Sam opened his eyes.

He managed to sit up, looking nauseous.

“Dean, I can’t…”  Sam objected, though Dean wasn’t having any of it.

“Come on, you know what they say. ‘Starve a cold, feed a flu.”  Dean replied, raising an eyebrow.

Sam scoffed.

“Yeah, right.”  He said with a shake of his head.  “Unless, I’ve got a cold, in which case it magically becomes ‘starve a flu, feed a cold.’” 

Dean passed him the plate.

“Just eat, okay?”  He said, trying not to seem too pushy, as Sam let out a small sigh.

He knew if he didn’t at least try, Dean would worry.

Honestly, Dean could really treat him like a kid sometimes…

“Fine, fine, I’ll eat some of it.”  Sam said, tasting it.

The lasagne was delicious, but even so, Sam’s stomach churned a bit.

 

After Sam had eaten a bit, Dean left him alone to rest, making sure to ask if he needed anything.

With Sam wanting nothing, Dean left him alone, heading back downstairs with the leftovers in hand.

 

 

 

Dean spent the night awake, insomnia plaguing him.

He needed something, craved it with everything he had, but he just didn’t know what it was.

In the middle of the night, Castiel showed up in the middle of the den, where Dean lay on the couch.

There had been some distance between Castiel and the Winchesters over the past year or so, though quite recently Castiel had managed to get his grace back and was back to normal.

“Is everything all right?”  Castiel asked in his characteristic monotone, having sensed that Dean was feeling very troubled.

“Peachy.”  Dean answered untruthfully, feeling miserable.

Castiel knew that the mark was having detrimental effects on Dean, and he had been working on a way to help him since before Dean had been turned into a demon and then brought back again.

So far, he hadn’t come up with much at all.

“I could ease your mind for a while, if you would only let me.”  Castiel offered, as he had in the past.

He would be able to grant Dean something of a reprieve of all of the negativity; the mix of ferocious aggression, despair and pain flowing throughout him, if only for a few hours.

“I told you, I’m fine.”  Dean said a little snappishly.

Castiel felt a pang.

He missed the old Dean, and wanted so badly to help bring him back.

“Why do you lie?”  Castiel asked, staring at his friend pensively.

Dean’s lips barely curled into a bitter smile.

“Because, I’m not sure I can even admit to myself just how messed up I am right now, Cas.”  He answered, hating himself.

Dean hadn’t told anyone, and wasn’t sure whether or not Castiel knew, but he had tried to commit suicide already.

Not once, but twice.

And, neither time could he do it.

Not because he was too weak, but because something inside him, something other than himself, was preventing him from doing it.

Dean was certain that he was only going to continue to hurt people, and that it would be only a matter of time before it was someone he loved.

After all, he had turned into a demon once; what was stopping him from becoming one a second time?

And, even if he didn’t, he was still a monster.

“I am still trying to find a way to cure you, Dean.  If there is one, I will find it.”  Castiel promised him sombrely, his eyes sad.

Dean was all out of words to say.

Castiel understood, and faded from Dean’s view, staying with him.

As Dean lay down, Castiel reached out, touching Dean’s forehead and sending him into a peaceful slumber of only good things.

 

 

The next morning, Sam awoke feeling a little better; not quite ready to do jumping jacks or anything like that, but at least his headache had gone and he had something of an appetite.

It was nearly ten, and Dean hadn’t brought him any breakfast.

He supposed that Dean must have slept in.

Sam got out of bed carefully, a touch dizzy yet, as he wandered out of his bedroom and began going downstairs.

Briscoe, who had been lying beside Dean on the couch, stirred, waking him.

Dean heard Sam coming downstairs, and he quickly hid the dog, along with any evidence of the creature, before his brother made it to the foot of the staircase.

As Sam made himself a bowl of cereal, he remarked on the décor.

“Since when do you go all out for Christmas?”  Sam inquired, impressed with the amount of effort Dean had put into it.  “Not that I’m complaining, or anything.”

Dean shrugged.

“Just thought we could do something a little different this year, that’s all.”  Dean replied, gesturing to the tree.  “I saved you half the tree to decorate, if you want.”

Sam smiled, before spooning a bite into his mouth.

He chewed a few times, before swallowing.

“I can’t even remember the last time we had a tree, let alone decorating one.”  Sam told his brother, thinking back.  “When was the last time?”

Dean swallowed.

“Oh, I don’t know, man.”  Dean lied tonelessly, remembering exactly the last time there had been a decorated Christmas tree in the Winchester home.

Not that Sam would.

It had been the Christmas before he’d been born, and Dean remembered it quite well.

He had been excited about the news of his baby brother since learning of it, and his mother’s belly had begun to grow.

It hadn’t been much of a tree, really, but to Dean it had been absolutely beautiful.

There had been so much happiness that Christmas…

Dean recalled it all, remembered it every year around the holidays; couldn’t forget it.

“That long, huh?”  Sam remarked, raising his brows.  “Well, I guess it’s about time we had one.”

Dean nodded.  “Yeah, I thought so, too.”  He agreed, glad that Briscoe was being so quiet.

After all, it wouldn’t do for Sam’s biggest surprise to be spoilt.

“I take it you’re feeling better?”  Dean asked, noting a hint of colour in Sam’s cheeks.

“A bit.”  Sam answered, popping another spoonful into his mouth.

“Good.”  Dean stated, noticing that one of the gifts he’d wrapped had a piece of loose tape and was beginning to come undone.

He quickly fixed it, before coming into the kitchen and making himself a quick pb & j on toasted rye.

“I’m going to have to do some shopping.”  Sam said, realising that he would have to pick out some gifts for Dean.

That would be easy enough, if he went with the obvious.

But, he’d rather give Dean something other than porn and booze.

Especially considering everything he’d been doing lately.

No, Sam would have to find something really special for his brother.

He yawned, putting his empty bowl in the sink.

“Maybe you should head back to bed.”  Dean suggested, wondering how much longer Briscoe would stay undetectable.

The day after tomorrow was Christmas Eve, so he’d only have to keep the dog a secret for a short while.

Sam felt lazy, and didn’t want to go to bed.

But, he still was sick, and he had very little energy, so he agreed.

“I think I will.”  Sam said, before heading back to his room.

 

The next couple of days went by pretty quickly, and without any problems.

Sam was feeling much better on Christmas Eve, and had borrowed Baby to do some shopping in the afternoon, while Dean made pies for the next day.

After Sam came home, he spent a couple of hours in his room wrapping the presents that he’d picked out, before coming downstairs for dinner.

Dean had put Briscoe in a spare room, which was soundproofed (as many of the rooms in the bunker happen to be), and so the dog wasn’t any worry.

After a supper of meatloaf, the boys watched ‘It’s a Wonderful Life’, before Sam headed to bed and Dean took Briscoe for a walk before going to bed himself.

 

 

Dean was the first to wake up, having set his alarm early to make sure that everything was ready.

He’d even made sure to pick up a couple of stockings and fill them with goodies, since Sam hadn’t ever experienced that before.

Maybe it was a bit late for such things, but better than never.

Dean waited until seven o’clock, before bringing Sam a tray with toasted handmade red and green swirled bread, eggnog, and a sliced apple with cinnamon sprinkled on top.

Sam grumbled a little, until he truly awoke, and had been surprised to find Dean wearing a Santa hat and a wide grin.

“Merry Christmas, bro!”  He greeted Sam brightly, who smiled crookedly.

“Merry Christmas.”  Sam returned, as Dean sat on the edge of the bed, watching him.

Sam looked at the toasted bread a little strangely.

“What’s wrong?”  Dean asked with a hint of offence.

“Nothing…  I just was wondering what’s up with the toast.”  Sam answered.

Dean frowned. 

“I thought it would be festive.”  He explained.

It hadn’t been easy to get that swirled effect without the colours bleeding into one another.

“It’s kind of weird.”  Sam said, biting into a piece. “It tastes okay, though.”

Dean shook his head.

“Ingrate.”  He joked, wanting Sam to hurry up and eat.

 

Once Sam had finished breakfast, they went downstairs to unwrap presents.

Each gift had been really thoughtful, and well appreciated.

Dean’s favourite had been the new black leather jacket, and Sam’s had been a book entitled ‘The Words of Ghandi’.

Or, at least that _had_ been Sam’s favourite gift, until Dean brought out the very last one.

Dean walked out of the mudroom, a majestic looking mutt at his heels.

“His name’s Briscoe.”  Dean told him, encouraging the dog to go over to Sam, who was grinning from ear to ear.

Dean passed him a small stack of papers.

“That’s a list of all the commands he knows; he’s remarkably well-trained.”  He added, as Briscoe licked Sam’s hand lovingly.

Since being away from the shelter, Briscoe had become much more relaxed and was obviously very happy.

“He’s perfect, Dean.”  Sam told his brother, thrilled at his new canine companion.  “I never would have expected anything like this…  Thank-you!”

Dean smiled, glad to see Sam so content.

Briscoe and Sam had bonded instantly, and Dean knew that he had given Sam one of the best gifts that he’d ever received.

And, Sam’s happiness melted away his internalised abject misery for a while, allowing him to feel like his old self again.

“Merry Christmas, Sammy.”  Dean told his not so little brother.

“Merry Christmas, Dean.”  Sam replied, stroking Briscoe’s thick coat.

 

 

 

 

 


End file.
